Of War and Wrackspurts
by Muffliato
Summary: Our favourite Gryffindors really shouldn't have overdosed the depressed Boy Wonder on cheering charms. But going back for their '7th' year was the syrup on this treacle tart. Canon '101 Things Not To Do At Hogwarts' with high!Harry amidst post-war angst. Yep, very trippy.
1. Saneness and Sanity

**Summary: Though Hermione, Ron and Ginny would vehemently deny it, the current chaos threatening Hogwarts' existence was entirely their fault. Sure, trying to help Harry cope with the psychological aftermath of the Second War was nice of them, but there was a reason these Lions weren't in Ravenclaw. For according to common sense and occam's razor, overdosing the newly horcrux-less boy-who-lived on cheering potions could spell nothing but Apocalyptic doom. But surely that's melodramatic. Our favourite hero's wrackspurt-infected, hallucinogenic, Marauder side couldn't be worse than flinging an _incendio_ at an Erumpent Horn, right? Right. Let's go with that.**

**A/N: This is absolutely canon compliant. I'm not even kidding–it completely is and could fit in between the last chapter and Epilogue of "Deathly Hallows".**

**With that being said, I don't know what possessed me to write this–even the wrackspurts don't usually drive me this batty! So. Post-war, what would happen if Harry's friends–with his best intentions in mind–kept him 'slightly' overdosed on cheering charms to help couple with the dire psychological effects of the aftermath? And what if, with the horcrux finally gone from his head, he discovered that his true personality was a bit more Marauderish than he had expected?**

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**General Disclaimer: If I was Rowling there would have been at least one aftermath scene. But noooo, she had to skip ahead 19 years to a mega-happy-ending! Meh, fine. Whatevs. That just allows us fanfic writers to insert the missing angst and craziness.**

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_42. Asking Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger "When's the wedding?" is only funny a few times._

_96. I will not make fun of Hufflepuffs because their house colours make them look like bees._

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Harry Potter yawned. Hmm, this blanket was cozy. As was the bed overall, for even just from its feel he could tell it wasn't anything like the dratted mattresses in the tent. Maybe this was why he felt like he was floating? Yeah, maybe. That should be it. Nothing to fear: just sleepiness and a nice bed.

He yawned again–and smiled.

This last one was why he sprung up in a panic, his eyes jerking open in surprise as fragments of memories crashed down on him in a hurried, incoherent mess. For though his mind reeled in confusion, he was pretty certain that he was not supposed to be happy. If there was one thing he had learned in his tumultuous life, it was that when things felt off one should hex first and ask questions later.

"No no no, Harry, calm down!" A worried voice shouted out.

"Mate, stay still." A pair of arms struggled to force him back down. "This was Hermione's plan, just trust her."

Hermione. The name triggered thoughts of bushy hair, intelligence and, yes, absolute trust through Harry's panic, and he slowly calmed down. Whatever was going on, if his bookworm friend was behind it than it was going to be fine. Even if the result did make his mind rather fuzzy and made him feel the need to inexplicably grin. Blasted facial features, how dare they betray him? Wait, why did he feel like he was supposed to be anything but happy? That didn't really make any sense either.

Harry rubbed his throbbing head as the argument between his friends finally washed over him, his thoughts slowly focusing back on his surroundings.

"-my _plan_?" Hermione was said incredulously.

Ron blinked. "What's wrong with that?"

"You make it sound like a nefarious plot!" Her hands waved widely in emphasis, almost hitting her boyfriend in the process.

"What?" Ron ducked, quickly stepping away from the bed and Hermione's rather dangerous limbs. "I just said 'plan'. There's nothing wrong with that!"

She looked at him testily. "It was your tone of voice. Honestly, Ronald."

But Harry wasn't really listening, and not even for why he typically tuned out his best friends' arguments. This time, his attention was drawn away by the cute little redhead who sat down on the blankets as Ron left. She was absently twisting the fabric this way and that, only pausing to take Harry's glasses off the bedside table and gently put them on his face. But then, it was back to the nervous braiding of the blankets.

Ginny had seen better days. Hair mused and dark shadows painted around her eyes, both oddly complimented the grimacing half-smile on her lips. Harry found her bed-head strangely endearing, and his thoughts managed to coalesce enough for him to wish to vanish the haggard expression from her otherwise lovely features. From her button nose to chocolate eyes–which really resembled treacle tart, now that he thought about it. He frowned: yeah, just like the dessert, so it should be 'treacle tart brown', right? Right. Sounds better than any chocolate anyway; Ron was barmy for liking cauldron cakes, and not even for the love potion/poison incident. Wait, no. Something felt off. No, his thoughts were going off again, which can't be good. Focus, he needed to focus. He had been thinking about...about Ginny's eyes? No wait, the shadows around them. That's it. Now _those_ were definitely dark chocolate brown.

"I wonder when their wedding is." Ginny said softly, tilting her head towards the vehemently arguing couple. "Hard to believe they're going out, hmm?"

Harry tried to agree. This failed miserably since his mind felt as though Luna Lovegood and a crowd of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks had trampled over it, and was only growing fuzzier by the second. Instead, he nodded in the affirmative.

Ginny blew out a breath of air. "Merlin, why can't those two stop so we can explain it to you?"

He thought for a moment to question what they had to explain, but was distracted by the way Ginny's red stained eyes almost exactly matched her hair. Thoughts drifting, he idly mused that it was good the same colour coordination couldn't happen to him. Well, unless the Weasley Twins decided to turn his hair green. Oh wait, just George now–that's right. Erm, shouldn't he be more upset about that? But all he could think about was pranks, stupid chocolate, and emerald green hair. Which he definitely didn't want. Crimson would be far better, nice and Gryffindor. No ugly Slytherin-y things here, no sir-ee...

Harry frowned. Or tried to, at least, but the grin was stubbornly persistent.

"Harry, Harry?" Ginny reached out and cupped his dazed face in her hands as the arguing couple finally stopped to look their way in concern. "I've already lost you, haven't I."

His smile turned into a sheepish one, but she didn't seem bothered. "It's part of the potion regiment that Hermione came up with, but I didn't realise it would effect you so quickly."

"What-potions?" Ah good, his mouth was finally working. But stiffly at that, and his voice sounded too jubilant to be his own. Yet once again this weird revelation didn't jar him as much as he thought it should. He wasn't really bothered in the least, to tell the truth.

While Ginny hesitated Hermione walked over to take up the explanation. The brunette sent Harry an overly reassuring smile. "Quite a few potions actually, as well as spells. Mainly–well, they're mainly memory-suppressants and cheering concoctions."

"It sounds worse than it is." Ron piped in hurriedly, looking at his friend as though he was about to explode. "Please don't kill us!"

"Don't be so overdramatic." Hermione scoffed even though her voice belied a hint of worry. "He doesn't have his wand, it can't be too bad."

Yes, Harry should definitely be upset, not least because they were talking about him like he wasn't in the room. Oh, and the potions and memory-suppressant stuff. A part of his mind _knew_ that he should be sweltering mad, but the rest of him didn't particularly care. His thoughts seemed to prefer to just keep comparing Lion versus Snake colours, and trying to figure out if the Hufflepuffs really were bees in disguise. But what would that make the Ravens? Erm, Eagles? Well, some sort of flying creature at least. Maybe a penguin-wait, they don't fly. Unless you _wingardium leviosa_ it, of course. Or take it up on a broomstick. Or an illegal magic carpet-and blimey, wouldn't it be fun to take one of those things out for a ride? Much better than a bloody thestral. Especially when it was actually bloody. Eww, that was just gross.

"You probably don't remember–you _shouldn't_ remember if the spells are working–but after the Battle of Hogwarts you were, you were..." Ginny fiddled once more with the blanket, struggling to keep her gaze focused on Harry, "...the war wasn't over for you. In the last few months we've been trying to move on, but you couldn't. It was, it was clear something was wrong."

Ginny was having difficulty looking him in the eyes–or even breathing–as she continued. "You don't understand. I swear we didn't want to do this! It's only been a few months but you were so depressed and absolutely nothing we did was working." She gazed down, blinking back tears as Ron awkwardly patted her shoulder. "Nothing I did was working. You blamed yourself for everything and could only focus on finding that dratted ring. But you never even left the battle–you kept forcing us away, even Teddy. You even convinced St Mungo's that you were healthy and that we're just overprotective. Not like that was hard, stupid hero-worshipping healers.

"Then after last week–" but Ginny hesitated and her voice faltered before dying out completely. After a few sniffles she weakly continued to speak. "Never mind, you don't have to know. All that matters is that you're getting help now."

Harry could tell his girlfriend's smile was strained, but that didn't seem to put a dent on his sudden happiness or on his internal musings about how a penguin could fly. "So, why do I feel all weird and fuzzy?"

Ron coughed to stifle his snort. "Should be the side-effects. But, 'fuzzy'? Really?"

Hermione spared her boyfriend a sharp glare before turning back to Harry, her gaze instantly softening. "Yes, feeling a bit too euphoric is usual."

"No no no." Harry shook his head, waving his hands as his mouth suddenly felt much freer than usual. Ah, that was more like it. "It's not like euphoria. Well, not only. It's like, like, like diving on a broomstick-or no, like on a dragon! Wait, that's it. That's so it. A dragon would work perfectly! It's big enough for a penguin _and_ for a rider, and is only a bit fiery 'n stuff. D'ya think Charlie could loan me one? Or we can find Gringotts', that'd be cool. Now we just need a penguin. Who have flippers and no arms. How weird."

His friends exchanged a highly worried glance, even though Ron fought back a laugh.

"Hermione," Ginny said slowly, "how strong were those spells?"

The brunette blushed. "I thought it might be better to, erm, slightly overdo it. Harry doesn't mind being a bit happier, right?"

But Harry was busy waving his hands in front of his eyes, entranced by the sight. Ron didn't bother hiding his snort. "'A bit'? He's high on cheering charms. Is that even possible?"

"In combination with the potions," Hermione bit her lip guiltily, "yes, it's possible."

Harry finally looked up, blinking at them with extremely wide emerald eyes. "What're you talking about?"

"Nothing, don't worry about it." Ginny said reassuringly, patting his knee. "Hermione just got overzealous and the potions are sinking in. All is, well, all is sort of going to plan. Maybe, err..."

"Ah, right then." Harry nodded and promptly forgot about it. The other three stared at him as he nonchalantly looked out the window and started humming, a grin plastered on his face.

"Merlin, it's weird to see him like this." Ron spoke quietly. "Not even just out of his mind, which is creepy enough, but-"

"-happy. I know." Hermione said just as softly. "Why did you think I wanted to overdo the charms?"

They fell back to a peaceful silence, only punctured by Harry's giddy hums.

"When he's back to normal, he's going to kill us." Ron said finally. "Very slowly and brutally by using us for target practice. But at least we'll get excellent blackmail material out of this. I mean, how'd he even get to 'penguins' anyway?"

The girls looked at him sharply.

"_Ron_," Hermione hissed, "he's your best friend! This might be saving him from commi-from having a, a mental breakdown or whatnot, and you're concerned about _blackmail_?"

Ginny glared at her brother as he stumbled away from the angry witches. "Don't bother worrying about what Harry might do. He'll have to resurrect you once I'm through!"

Harry looked up at them curiously. "Who do I have to resurrect? Didn't I already do that?"

His three friends flinched, anger dwindling away.

"You, you don't have to do anything." Ron said shakily. "But don't say that sort of thing so lightly, okay?"

Harry innocently tilted his head to the side, making his bangs fall away from his faded lightning bolt scar. "Say what?"

"Nothing." Ginny said in a strangled voice. "Nothing at all. Ron's just-just sensitive to mentions of death."

Harry blinked, his smile diminishing slightly. "Ah, Fred. Right. Sorry 'bout that."

His friends' eyes widened and flickered to the boy-who-lived-again's chest, worries spiralling through their minds.

"No problem." Ron struggled out, failing to block the image of his deceased brother lying in the Great Hall, and of his brother in all but blood, slumped pale and still in Hagrid's arms.

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**A/N: Much like my 'Hallowed Time Twists' story, this wee tale will be overflowing with simultaneous crack and angst. BWAHAHAH! Dear wizarding god, how I adore writing high!Harry.**

**Every character but poor, poor delusional Harry will be canon. See, my original premise was: can I write a serious post-war fic where everyone is in their different stages of grieving? But then I remembered, wait a sec, Harry sucks at grieving. He is absolutely, mind-boggingly terrible at it. He suppresses all of his emotions until they burst out in an explosive fury!**

**...which was when I realised I had a problem.**

**So then I had another think. If Harry reacted so badly to Sirius' death, what in Merlin's name would happen to him after the trauma and bloodbath of the seventh book? 'Huh,' I thought, 'wouldn't it be utterly entertaining to make Harry have a nervous breakdown?' But that was too directly angsty for me so I decided to skip over the Golden Boy's PTSD mental drama to the aftermath, with his friends willing to do anything to make sure Harry wouldn't leave them again. Even if that meant keeping the Boy Wonder in a doped-out state and dealing with the fallout of his insanity.**

**And if all that means I have an excuse to write a post-war, high!Harry version of '150 Things I Can't Do In Hogwarts', so be it. Oh, and of course this story won't be filled with "Hitchhiker's Guide", Monty Python, and 'A Very Potter Musical/Sequel' references. Obviously not. Perish the thought.**


	2. Fluffy and Feathers

**A/N:** Nope, I'm not dead. Or an inferi. Or a sparkly undead vampire. I just haven't updated in ages. Not weeks, or months–_ages_. Whoops? Luckily I have tons of scenes written for 'adventures' at Hogwarts, so the chapters should be coming muchmuchmuch more frequently after this.

I've just been busy with the end of the semester, and meeting J.K. Rowling and Harry and the Potters. Nope, I'm not joking–I've been living the fangirl's dream :D

Not to worry, the last chapter's end note about there being no pop culture references was tongue-in-cheek. But as a lovely reviewer pointed out, I overlooked mentioning the Muppets: the horror, the Horror! Like I could write this fic without any BOOM chacalakalaka BOOM chacalakalaka BOOM action...

**General Disclaimer:** If I was J.K. Rowling you'd be waiting years between updates. So count your blessings!

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_13. I will not accept anything edible from a Weasley._

_- Or a Granger. Especially a Granger._

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"-the most fascinating specimens! Father's theory was correct: the Snorkack only comes out to the call of a niffler." Luna Lovegood nodded sagely, though the effect was somewhat ruined by her dreamlike tone. "They do share a common interest of shiny things. I don't know why we didn't think of it sooner, it's so obvious in hindsight." The radish earrings bobbled as the girl brightly beamed.

Mrs. Weasley poured the tea while ruminating how best to respond. She decided that the simple and evasive would be best. "That's nice dear. Ginny will be down in just a minute. Milk?"

"Milk? Weren't we having tea?" Luna blinked, her grin transcending into a dreamy smile. "It would be nice to see Ginny, but I'm actually looking for Harry."

"Harry?" The older witch froze, only just managing to not drop the tea kettle. Perhaps she should get the twins to run interference. Goodness knows she'd only contemplate involving those two as a last, desperate resort but–oh. Wait, no, not her twins anymore: the thought struck her like a rampaging hippogriff. Forget dropping the tea. She felt her knees buckling as her ankles and legs and muscles and body weren't enough to support the truth. The blasted reality had once more snuck up out of nowhere: the vision of her sweet, incredible boy, lying there as if asleep. Still with a laugh on his petrified lips.

Mrs. Weasley's hands trembled as she clumsily sat down. She was too busy keeping herself under control to notice or care. "I'm sorry, but Harry isn't feeling well. I know my children and Hermione have missed you-"

"I'd like to see them too." Luna gazed at Molly's pale features with a soft understanding. "But also Harry. Especially Harry. You see, he has a rather awful case of wrackspurts and I'm not sure if Hermione knows the cure."

"...wrackspurts?" The older woman was gratefully happy for a distraction, no matter how odd. "And Hermione?"

"She is rather narrow-minded." The blonde Ravenclaw shrugged good-naturedly. "Yes, wrackspurts. Harry has a whole head of them and he has to learn to embrace them!"

"I see. I think everyone would be open to trying something new. Anything really." Mrs. Weasley took a shallow sip of her tea. Distantly, she knew she wouldn't even be considering this if the situation wasn't so desperate. But after the past few months...she set down her cup with a shiver just as a particularly vehement curse resounded from upstairs. The Weasley matriarch looked up, decided that it wasn't quite a bloodcurdling scream of terror, and stirred some more milk into her tea. "Anything that doesn't involve target practice, that is. No sugar in your tea as well?"

A maniacal laugh split the air, failing to make either of the women jump.

"That would be George." Mrs. Weasley warily sighed. "I'm thrilled he's finally recovering from–from May. But I do wish there were less explosions."

"That's his coping method." Luna peered at the ceiling with a curious look. "Hermione mentioned she was trying some potions on Harry?"

The older witch looked down sadly. "Yes, but she's only casting a few cheering charms at the moment. That's why you might want to wait to go up, dear. We're just waiting for Madam Pomfrey–another of her patients fell into labour early–before starting the actual potions."

Another trill of laughter echoed throughout the house. They didn't pay much attention to this; not so much out of apathy as for the fact that it corresponded with hundreds of bumblebees suddenly appearing throughout the Burrow's kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was instantly on her feet, wand raised and tea flying.

"_Impedimen-_" She cried but her arm was yanked down, making the spell fly into the floor.

"Don't hurt them!" Luna exclaimed, before she leaned forward to examine one of the bees. "They aren't attacking. They're just, floating." Sticking her tongue out of the corner of her mouth, she took her wand out from behind her ear and gently tapped one of them. She was met with a fizzle of magic. "They aren't real."

Realising that the young Ravenclaw was correct, Mrs. Weasley lowered her wand just as a cold, soft prickle fell on her nose. She looked up at the forming cloud in disbelief. "Is that–it that _snow_?"

But Luna's attention was arrested by what had just appeared in front of the door. "SQUAK!" Came a chirp and the girl couldn't help but giggle. She walked over to the doorway and picked up the small animal.

"Hmm, we really have to get these wrackspurts out of his head." Luna said while poking her new friend's snout. Mrs. Weasley nodded in stunned disbelief, and as the snow started bursting amidst Weasley Whiz-Bang Fireworks both witches rapidly made a beeline for the hallway–pun absolutely intended.

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"Knock knock." Luna said happily, walking through the bedroom's doorway with a crown of snow on her head. A disheveled Mrs. Weasley came in next, snapping the door shut behind them and a string of buzzing. Only then did she relax and stow her wand. "I brought Harry's new friend!"

The teenagers froze as they took in the three newcomers. This gave Mrs. Weasley ample time to examine her charges. First off, Harry looked no worse than last night. Skinny as ever and in desperate need of a haircut, but his grin told her that at least some of the cheering charms had worked. There was a glazed look in his eyes; she frowned at this and bustled over. She cupped the boy's chin in her hands and took in his absent expression with concern.

"Hermione," Mrs. Weasley put a hand on his head to feel his temperature. "how much power were in the cheering charms?" There was no answer. She turned around and was met by nervous shuffling from the brunette.

"We thought, I thought," Hermione was particularly tongue-tied, something which seemed especially out-of-character for the intelligent young woman, "I'd read everything about it. I knew how to monitor him, I swear I'd done all the research. Madam Pomfrey had the emergency pregnancy to go to and I, I couldn't wait, I wanted to have my brother back!" Her voice grew in pitch and nervous, excited anxiety as the befuddled explanation want on.

George let out a burst of laughter, leaning against the chest of drawers. "What, what she means mum," he struggled to catch his breath, "is that Harry's high on potions. Which is too good! Why didn't we ever think of this? It would've been all too easy to dose pumpkin juices in Hogwarts. Merlin, the opportunities lost–"

Harry blinked, going cross-eyed as he tried to look at the idly bemused Luna, the rambling George, the increasingly angry Mrs. Weasley, and the squawking penguin at once. "What's Fluffy doing here?"

Molly's tirade at a pale Hermione halted as concern crossed her features. "I'm sorry dear? How do you feel–any pains? Confusion? Oh, how could you kids be so careless!"

"Nah, I'm fine." The boy-who-lived gave a boyish smile. Molly tried to stiffle her sniff of sadness; this failed miserably. "But Fluffy's here!"

Ron blinked, before looking around cautiously and taking out his wand. "A cerberus again? Mate, please tell me you're hallucinating."

"_Again_?" Molly turned her narrowed eyes to her youngest, gulping son. "Ronald Bilius Weasley, what is this about a cerberus?"

"He's not hallucinating." Luna said dreamily and held up the animal in her arms. "This must be Fluffy. That's a very nice name, Harry."

"So Fluffy isn't a cerberus, good to know." George said, his chuckle refusing to cease. "Now, why are you two and Luna's new penguin covered in snow?"

"Harry." Luna said simply, setting down Fluffy the penguin with a _plop_. "Accidental magic, I expect. First there were oddly peaceful bees, then snow for Fluffy, then Fluffy herself. Oh, and some fireworks for entertainment."

"That's, that's enough dear." Molly said faintly as Harry absently nodded to Luna's explanation. "Ron, Hermione, come with me so I can floo Poppy. Ginny and Luna keep, keep Harry out of trouble. George–"

"I'll keep them company." George hopped onto the bed with a grin that, for once, reached his eyes. They all chose to ignore the bag of brightly coloured candy which seemed to appear in his hand out of nowhere.

"Mum?" Ron questioned before being yanked with his girlfriend out into the hallway and down the steps. As they entered the kitchen–still cluttered with snow–the teenagers were met with Mrs. Weasley's patented sabretooth tiger glare.

"This is what happens when you don't think!" Mrs. Weasley said exasperatedly the moment the door was closed, clearing off the tabletop with an annoyed twist of her wand. "What in Merlin's name were you thinking? Hermione, I thought you were smarter than this. If I hadn't seen him with my own eyes I never would have thought that ... what in Merlin's name possessed you to try this yourself?"

Hermione bit her lip and scrambled to find an answer. For there was really no logical reason why she–who was definitely not a trained medical expert–had done this by herself. The problem was that she hadn't been paying attention to logic at the time. Rationality was far from her mind and all she could remember thinking was that she'd failed Harry, something was terribly wrong and she felt awful, useless and so stupid. The only way to make things work was to turn to the library, to find a solution, to fix it all. Because she always fixed everything and this was not going to be the one time she failed!

She opened her mouth as explanations swam to the front of her mind–of the tent and isolation and her brother-in-all-but-blood in pain and _she had to get it right_ because there was no one else–before realising with a sudden stop that Mrs. Weasley would have no idea what she was talking about. Thankfully, Ron's laughter finally paused and he came to her rescue.

"Mum, we're talking about Hermione." Ron said with a roll of his eyes. He gave his girlfriend a glance of sympathetic understanding which countered his otherwise joking attitude. "After we tried everything else she knew that if she read enough books she'd find the right answer. So she did and we're fixing things." A loud squawk and manic laughter came from the hallway.

"_That_ is 'fixing things'?" Molly asked in exasperation.

Hermione and Ron exchanged a helpless glance, even though the latter was trying hard not to grin. "Erm, yes?" The brunette squeaked. "The dosage is a bit off but if it's adjusted-"

_BOOM!_

A flaming cartwheel swirled into the kitchen, letting off loud sparks and colourful blasts before fizzling out on the ceiling. It was to the occupants' credit that they barely jumped in surprise.

"-I'll fix the potions with Madam Pomfrey when she comes." Hermione finished weakly. "But, but I'm sure the accidental magic will wear off soon. He'll eventually tire himself out. I think. Probably."

"I think it's more like wandless magic." Ron shook his head in amazement. "That, plus George slipped him a Patented Daydream Charm. That probably had an odd reaction to the potions, come to think of it."

"But he'll listen to Ginny." Hermione pointed out in desperation, ducking as another firework swept into the room.

"George is encouraging this?" Mrs. Weasley cried out, pulling out her wand to vanish to ensuing fire. "It's wonderful he's acting like himself, but is this really the time?"

Ron shrugged as a grin pulled at his lips. "He thinks it's hilarious. Which, you can hardly blame the bloke. Don't know why you two and Ginny are so upset!"

Hermione pivoted to glare at her boyfriend. "Oh, why would I be upset? Maybe because my best friend is _out of his mind_? Or wait, maybe it's because his magic is up to _George's and Luna's whims_! Take your pick."

"It's not their 'whims'." Ron tried to argue while hurriedly stepping away. "Harry's just, erm, highly suggestible right now. George is probably trying to get ideas for new inventions, Luna'll get him to create some imaginary beast, and Ginny will..."

His sentence trailed off as he dramatically paled. Without another word he rushed out into the hallway, grabbed his bewildered best friend, and unceremoniously dragged him into the kitchen. Harry blinked at the sudden scene change.

"Ron?" He said puzzledy as Ginny and George rushed into the room after him. Luna trailed in at a more leisurely pace, Fluffy padding away right behind her. "Why am I here? I was getting rid of the wrackspurts with fireworks."

"You can do that later." Ron put his arm over Harry's shoulder and pulled him to the other side of the table from his sister. "For now just stay away from Ginny. Trust me, it's for your own good."

"Excuse me?" Said sister growled, her fingers edging close to her wand. "_I've_ been trying to stop this insanity while _you've_ been laughing, and you want _him_ to stay away from _me_?"

Hermione bit her lip in amusement. "Erm, Ginny? Ron thinks that Harry is 'highly suggestible'."

"He is." Ginny kept her angry stare on her brother. "So?"

Mrs. Weasley crossed her arms and sent similar narrowed eyes her youngest son's way. "He thinks that you would take advantage of the situation. Honestly Ronald, your own sister: I know I taught you better than that!"

Ginny looked even more confused. "Wait, what?"

Luna finally tuned into the scene. "Ginny, Ronald worried you would get your boyfriend to snog you senseless to entertain the nargles and Fluffy."

George spontaneously burst into hopeless chuckles and canary feathers.

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**A/N:** This is primarily a filler chapter. But I have the next batch of updates just about ready to go and they're pure comedy :D


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